


Family Resemblance

by TheManicMagician



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Headaches & Migraines, In which Ardyn gets emotional whiplash bc the king of kings looks like his little bro, In which Noct realizes he might have a thing for older men, Incest Mention, M/M, Massages, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManicMagician/pseuds/TheManicMagician
Summary: Noctis is left alone in Lestallum while his friends go on a hunt, too crippled by debilitating Titan-induced headaches to assist them. Ardyn might just be able to help him out.





	Family Resemblance

The young king is alone.

Ardyn finds him sitting on a bench away from the main streets of Lestallum, in the small public space that overlooks the Disc. Ardyn had driven to Lestallum the night before with a plan to conveniently cross paths with Noctis and his retinue and escort them to the Archaean. They must’ve split up on separate errands upon their return to the city. Frankly, he’s surprised the king’s Shield is absent. Lestallum may be peaceful, but it is still technically under the thumb of the empire.

Ardyn hadn’t intended to speak with the boy alone—not yet—but who is he to pass up the opportunity presented to him?

He slips quietly into the space beside his quarry. Noctis glances over at the movement, then does a double take.

“You’re the man from Galdin…” His eyebrows furrow with suspicion. “Have you been following us?”

Up close like this, his resemblance to Somnus is so striking that Ardyn’s smooth response catches in his throat. The same thick dark hair, electric blue eyes. Same nose. No doubt all the deliberate meddling of the Gods, to bookend the lineage of the Lucis Caelums with the same face. He wonders if the Gods thought he’d hesitate to kill the King of Kings if he resembled his little brother. If they thought it a final punishment for Ardyn.

The Gods are unsurprisingly unkind to their new Chosen One. Noctis’ face is sheet-white, save for the dark bags beneath his eyes. Before Ardyn approached, he’d been kneading at his temple with two fingers, looking positively ill. The Archaean’s ceaseless call evidently has left him unable to rest.

“I assure you, our meeting here is mere coincidence, Majesty.” Ardyn’s grin is all teeth.

Noctis frowns. “You know me.”

“As if one wouldn’t recognize the crown prince.” Ardyn performs a mocking half-bow. “Though I suppose the correct title is king now, isn’t it?”

Noctis flinches at that. Ah, the loss of the father is still fresh, it seems.

 “Tell me, where is your merry band of friends?”

“On a hunt,” Noctis admits, then bites his lip. His panic at telling near-stranger he’s alone is simply adorable. “But they’ll be back soon.”

Ardyn hums noncommittally.

Then, a tremor shakes the earth. The people of Lestallum don’t panic, accustomed to the bizarre string of quakes the city has endured over the past week. They steady themselves, but are otherwise unperturbed for the half a minute the earthquake lasts.

Noctis, however, is not so fortunate. At the first tremor he sucks in a sharp breath. He grits his teeth and fists his hands in his hair, bowing his head with the pain of it. Ardyn watches a bead of sweat trail from the nape of his neck, until it’s lost under the collar of his dark t-shirt. Noctis doesn’t unkink from his hunched position for a good minute after the tremors subside.

“Goodness, that looked like it hurt.” Ardyn infuses his voice with honeyed sympathy.

The smile Noctis gives him is wan.

“It’s—It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Nonsense!” Ardyn tuts. “You don’t need to put on airs on my account. In fact, I do believe I am able to assist with your current predicament.”

Ardyn leans closer, until he can smell the faint piney scent of Noctis’ shampoo. Their knees brush together.

His voice is a velvet promise. “I have some experience in alleviating pains of the body. Let us retire to my room at the Leville, where I can help you.”

Noctis wavers, then scoffs.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Ah, did I not introduce myself on the pier? Do forgive my rudeness, Majesty. You may call me Ardyn.”

“Ardyn,” Noctis repeats, and something in him _tugs_ at the sound of his name on those lips. “You got a last name to go along with that?”

“In due time,” Ardyn says, because where would the fun be in revealing it all so quickly?

“So mysterious.” Noctis laughs, then hisses as the movement aggravates his headache. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Gods, damn it.”

Ardyn winds his arm around Noctis’ shoulders, and tugs him upright.

“Come. Let us delay no longer.”

The pain he feels must be enfeebling. Noctis lets Ardyn lead him through the crowded city streets without further protest, eyes half-open. At this point the boy is desperate for any hope of alleviating his misery. Even if it means putting trust in a man like Ardyn.

The front desk clerk of the hotel raises an eyebrow at them as Ardyn all but drags an incapacitated Noctis along, but says nothing as they walk past. Before long, they’re inside Ardyn’s suite. He guides Noctis to the appropriately king-sized bed.

In his absence, the maids annoyingly left the window cracked, and harsh sunlight beams into the room. Too bright for his taste. Ardyn shuts the window and draws the blinds. Now, the only light comes from the small gaps between the slats. Ardyn then joins Noctis on the bed.

“Now, just close your eyes.” Ardyn instructs softly. “And relax.”

Noctis’ eyes slip shut. Trusting, foolish boy. He wonders what the Gods would do if he wrapped his hands around the King of Kings’ throat right now and squeezed the life out of him. His hand twitches at the idea, hovering over Noctis’ exposed, pale neck.

But, no. Not yet. There’s no point if Noctis is not at his strongest. He can kill the hapless king whenever he wishes. Noctis has to fail after all the Gods’ gifts have been bestowed upon him. So the Six will understand it was their shortcomings, their hubris, which doomed humanity. Not Noctis’.

Ardyn shifts his position on the bed so he’s sitting behind the crown of Noctis’ head. He places the tips of his fingers upon Noctis’ temples and gently massages the skin, rubbing slow circles.

“Your fingers are cold.” Noctis murmurs. “’s nice.”

“I am glad they bring you some small comfort.”

The Scourge took his power to heal eons ago; he can hardly remember now what it felt like. But there’s much about his years as a healer that are ingrained in his memory, including the proper techniques to massage away the aches and pains of the overworked body. Beneath his skillful touch, the pained expression on Noctis’ face slowly smooths out.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Thanks.”

His hands skim between Noctis and the bed sheets to knead at his neck. They work at the base, by the tips of his shoulder blades, before dragging up to his nape. Noctis shivers at the tickle of it.

Ardyn lifts a hand to push Noctis’ bangs over to one side, tucking the raven hair behind his ear. Somnus had outgrown his bangs.

“Turn over.”

Noctis, pliant and cozy from the relief of his pain, does as Ardyn asks. He flips over, burying his head in one of the many plump pillows. Ardyn continues to massage his neck in a steady rhythm, until Noctis is nearly asleep beneath him.

Then, his hands skim lower, finding the knots of stress between the king’s shoulder blades.

Noctis twists around to look back at Ardyn.

“Wait, my back—”

“Trust me.”

Noctis warily settles again, ready to bolt at the first twinge of pain. But Ardyn knows all about the thick stripe of scar tissue hidden beneath Noctis’ shirt. He’s careful not to agitate the old wound, and Noctis’ worry ebbs with each moment that passes without it flaring up.

“Such tense shoulders for one so young.” Tense, but firm. Ardyn revels in the feel of corded muscle beneath his hands, and wishes Noctis’ shirt wasn’t in the way. He wants to see it all. Wants to watch those muscles honed from years of training to fight him to flinch and quake with his need. “The burdens you carry must be heavy indeed.”

Ardyn drives his knuckles into a stubborn knot. Noctis arches up on the bed. Unbidden, a cry of pleasure tears free from those plush lips. Ardyn’s pulse quickens.

“That—how are you so good at this?” Noctis gasps.

“By the time you’re my age, you pick up a thing or two, here and there.”

He continues to work at the knot until Noctis is putty beneath his hands, shivery with pleasure. Ardyn fans out his fingers, and runs them slowly down Noctis’ back. To his delight, he notices that his continual touch and proximity are affecting the boy. Once close to drifting off, now Noctis is rigid beneath him, nearly squirming. His hands fist in the sheets as he struggles to contain himself. He chews his lip to avoid moaning out again. Ardyn massages small circles at Noctis’ lower back, just above the waistband of his pants.

“Now, why don’t you turn back over for me, so I can work on your head some more?”

Heat creeps to Noctis’ face. His ears redden.

“I think I’m good like this.”

“Oh, Majesty, I insist.” He grabs Noctis’ shoulder and flips him over faster than Noctis can react.

Now, there’s nowhere to hide. The king’s fatigues give away everything. Noctis’ erection tents in his pants.

“Oho? What’s this?”

Ardyn’s hand brushes against the obvious bulge.

“It’s—um.”

Noctis shifts, trying to shield himself. He makes to leave the bed, but Ardyn stops him with a touch on his arm.

“It’s only natural, of course.” Ardyn soothes. “You’re a virile young man. It must be quite difficult to attend to your needs with those friends of yours constantly about.”

Ardyn moves with deliberate slowness, not wanting to spook him. But Noctis says not a word of protest as Ardyn undoes his belt and slides his zipper down.

“Can we not talk about the guys right now?”

Noctis lifts his hips and kicks off his pants.

“Whatever His Majesty commands.”

Ardyn hooks a finger in the waistband of Noctis’ boxers. He teases them both by dragging them down too slowly. Finally, his cock springs free. Flushed and already more than half-erect. Well, he _is_ young.

Noctis throws his head back and lets loose a guttural moan as Ardyn wraps his hand around him. He wonders what the boy’s father would think could he see him now, whining like a wanton slut in the bed of his enemy.

“Do you like this, Noctis?” Ardyn swipes his thumb over his cockhead, smearing the precum that beads there.

“Yes, Gods, yes.”

Ardyn rolls forward and places his hands on either side of Noctis’ head, pinning him to the bed. Their groins brush against each other, separated only by Ardyn’s clothing.

“I’m going to ravish you.” Ardyn vows. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be so well-fucked you won’t even be able to _think_.”

Noctis grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and crashes their mouths together. Ardyn returns the kiss messily, hungrily. Noctis bites Ardyn’s lower lip, hard enough he knows it’ll be bruised and swollen tomorrow.

Then he pulls away, looking up at Ardyn through hooded eyes.

“That better be a promise.”

“Little minx.” This mouthy, flirty personality is a side of the king altogether unexpected—but much appreciated. Noctis will learn who he truly is before long, and this encounter will haunt him thereafter. This moment they spend together will be the one time they share a bed. Best to make the most of it.

Ardyn rucks up Noctis’ shirt. The king obliges him, tugging off his t-shirt and throwing it off the side of the bed.

Ardyn hisses lowly with appreciation as he runs his hands across the smooth, muscular plane of Noctis’ chest. He pinches one of his dusky, pebbling nipples, rolling it between his fingers. It’s so perky, he can’t resist leaning down for a taste. He bites lightly at one nipple and tweaks the other.

“You’re wearing too much.” Noctis’ complaint is breathless. His hands slip against the leather of Ardyn’s coat, fingers hooking in the latticework draped on his shoulders. “Take it off.”

So demanding. Still, Ardyn acquiesces, removing his trench coat and sweater while Noctis kicks off his boots and shimmies out of the rest of his clothing.

Noctis huffs with frustration as Ardyn takes his time folding and setting his clothes to the side of the bed.

“You’re moving so slow, old man,” Noctis taunts. “Lose your nerve?”

Noctis crawls over to him, and presses his chest to Ardyn’s back, skin to skin. Noctis reaches around to dig beneath Ardyn’s pants, to grasp his erection. He palms it roughly. A puff of hot breath on his neck is the only warning he gets before Noctis is biting and sucking at the juncture between Ardyn’s neck and shoulder. It wrests a strangled moan from Ardyn. He rocks into Noctis’ hand.

It’s not enough. He needs to be inside him. Ardyn turns, and pushes Noctis back onto the bed, beneath him.

“How are we doing this?” His voice is husky with lust. He reaches down and wraps a hand around the both of them, jerking them off in tandem. He can feel every pulse of Noctis’ erection, pressed against his own. His hand glides up and down, slick with their combined precum. Noctis’s blunt nails scrape at Ardyn’s back.

“I’ve—I’ve got—”

There’s a flash of magic and a bottle of lube appears in Noctis’ hand. It’s already been opened, about half the container still left.

Ardyn arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s Gladi— _ah_ —Gladio’s.”

“Have you ever done this before?”

A hot spike of jealously stabs in his gut at the thought. Ardyn and Noctis are each other’s halves, fated for each other. The thought of another taking what is his to conquer—

“Stop,” Noctis groans, hips twitching up as Ardyn’s hand squeezes. The bottle of lube drops from his slack grip. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna…”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes! Yes, why do you care?”

“How many?”

“Enough to know what I’m doing.”

Ardyn can imagine it. Exploratory fumbles with a high school crush—the blonde, perhaps. Or maybe Noctis has always felt drawn to older, powerful men, who have no fear of his title in the bedroom.

There’s confusion glittering in Noctis’ eyes. Why should Ardyn care about his past lovers, considering this is nothing more than an outlet for relief between two strangers? He can’t answer the king’s unspoken question, so he lets it go, and sits back on his haunches.

“Show me what you’ve learned, then.”

Noctis pushes himself back upright on the bed, his cock bouncing with the movement. He squeezes a generous amount of lube over his fingers before he tosses the bottle aside.

Ardyn watches with the eyes of a predator as Noctis prepares himself. He raises his hips and gently inserts a finger. With the lube, it enters easily. Noctis’ eyes flutter shut as he works himself open.

Here, he differs from Somnus. His little brother had been adorably timid about the whole thing. He hid his face in his hands as Ardyn worked him open inch by inch. Until pleasure overrode shame, and his hands dropped to reveal his pink cheeks, his blue eyes dewy with tears.

“I’m ready.” Noctis drags him back to the present. “Let’s do this.”

“I didn’t bring protection.” Ardyn says, absently. He hasn’t indulged in his carnal urges in decades.

He fondles Noctis’ ass, grazing over his prepared hole but not pushing a digit inside, to Noctis’ mounting frustration. His hips rock up with want.

“I don’t _care_ ,” Noctis grunts with impatience. “You’re clean, right?”

His dick twitches at the sudden fantasy of infecting Noctis with the Scourge through his release, but he knows it’s not possible.

“I’m clean.” Arydn confirms. It’s true at least in one sense of the word.

Noctis huffs. “Great, so come _on_ already.”

“Won’t you beg for me, Majesty?”

Noctis glares up at him.

“Come now, don’t be shy. Tell me what you need.”

Noctis’ gaze is drawn like a magnet to Ardyn’s cock. Unconsciously, he licks his lips. Ardyn strokes himself at a languid pace, content to wait him out. He’s rather good at waiting.

“Please,” It’s an exhale of breath, lower than a whisper.

“What was that?”

“Just fuckin’—fuck me already! _Please_ , Ardyn.”

Ardyn’s grin is triumphant. He hooks Noctis’ legs over his shoulders and with one fluid motion, he pushes inside.

Noctis screams his name, his ankles crossing, his legs pressing Ardyn closer still.

Ardyn puts power behind every thrust. The demons beneath his skin rumble for more, and delight as Ardyn pounds into the boy at a brutal pace.

Noctis arches up, and his cum sprays over his stomach. He’s gorgeous like this. Divine. Ardyn feels his body tremble with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Ardyn keeps his pace, using Noctis to chase his own release, now. Noctis is content to be used and manhandled, staring dreamily up at him in orgasmic bliss.

That soft look is what does it. Ardyn fists a hand in the mop of dark hair, tilting those blue eyes up to meet his.

“ _Somnus_ ,” He groans the name like a prayer.

Arydn is a man of his word. He pulls away from a Noctis who is sated and silent. His own release dries on his belly, while Ardyn’s drips slowly from his ass. Bruises and nail marks litter his skin. Well-fucked, indeed.

The King of Kings is a cuddler. They could both use a shower, but Noctis tugs him down on the bed beside him, and throws an arm over his chest, keeping him close. His retinue will likely throw a fit when they get back and he’s not in the city or their hotel room, but at the moment the king can’t be bothered to worry about it. Outside the sanctum of Lestallum, Titan remains quiet for the moment, leaving the king undisturbed.

“Who’s Somnus?” Noctis asks, as he noses against Ardyn’s neck. He’s already half-asleep.

“No one.” Ardyn says. He plays with Noctis’ hair as he stares into the distance, at nothing. “Much like myself, he was a man of no consequence.”


End file.
